Tea Time
by StitchGrl
Summary: A repeated ritual makes a long night. One-shot.


The road was winding, wet and long. That didn't stop him. Nothing could keep him away for long.

The light from her divan was still on, and he was relieved. He knocked thrice.

The door swung open.

"You're soaked!" she exclaimed when saw him.

"In this city, when it rains, it pours."

"Come in." She took his hat and cloak.

"What are you doing here at this hour?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you," he fetched for words. "Your light was on."

"Yes, I was reading."

"Who were you reading to?" He asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I rarely see you read, except for that one time."

She blushed, and drew her shawl around her shoulders. "I was reading to the child, hoping she or he would hear me."

The idea delighted him, and he smiled.

"Let's have some tea, for old times sake, Christine."

"Old times?" She said, but disappeared into the kitchen before he could answer. She reemerged with a tray.

"It is late." She said. "Will chamomile do?"

"Anything you can give is fine."

She set the tray between them and soaked the tea leaves into the pot. "Did you take a cab here?"

"No, I walked."

She paused.

"You'll catch your death like that, without an umbrella," she said.

"My shoes get ruined, either way."

She handed him his cup. "Did you have a nice walk?"

"I did," He said. "I thought about you."

"Please–"

"I miss you," he said.

She stuck to her chair and swallowed a sigh.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't say." He said. "When is the baby due?"

"Not too soon," she replied.

"You look beautiful," he said.

"Stop that," she said.

"I mean it."

He cupped the cup in his lap as if it were a babe.

"Do you remember when we used to take tea?" He asked.

"Of course I remember," she said.

"Seems like ages ago," he said.

"Not so."

"Do you want to hear a story, Christine?"

She looked up at him from her cup. "Is it sad?"

"No, it's marvelous," he said.

He closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair.

"I suppose," she said.

"Once upon a time, there lived a young man and his life. They had everything their hearts desired, except for a child. One day, the devil came to her and offered her a child in exchange for her soul. She agreed, and kept the secret to herself. When the baby was born, she disappeared without a note. She thought she would never see him again, but he searched for her, desert to ocean, hills to mountains. And he found her. He brought her back to their home, and took care of her until she died. She remembered who he was when she met him in death. He had given up his soul to be with her. Ever after."

"That's lovely."

"I knew you would think so," he said.

"Did you make it up?" She asked.

"No."

"I know when you make things up," she said.

"How can you tell?"

"I look at your face," she said.

She looked at him, and he back at her.

"What is my face saying now?" He asked.

She began to sob like a babe.

He opened his eyes and squeezed her hand. "There, there. Don't cry. I love you. Smile to that."

"Do you want some more tea?" She wiped her face with her backhand.

"I have enough for now, thank you."

"I'll make you some more." She said, pulling herself up.

"Don't leave, please."

She sat, uncomfortably.

"Run away with me tonight," he said.

She stood and crossed her arms for courage. "I was afraid you would ask me that."

"What do you say, Christine?"

"No," She replied. "I made a promise, which I intend to keep."

He looked down at his cup and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the water.

"Run away with me tonight." He said.

"I can't do that." She cried. "I have a husband who loves me will die without me. We have a child on the way." She threw her hands in the air in frustration. "Why do you ask me to do things I can't do?"

"Take a leap of faith," he said. "Don't be afraid."

"Stories!" She said, and felt his hand on hers.

* * *

"Have you picked out a name yet?" He asked.

"Not yet," She answered. "Nothing seems to sound just right."

"It doesn't have to," he said. "Once you make up your mind, it will sound right."

"I suppose," She sighed.

"Imagine, little Christine's in the night. Breaking hearts with all her might."

He smiled and she smiled.

They lingered on that thought.

_Gong_, said the clock with the loose tension spring.

"It's late," she said.

"The tea is cold." he said.

She took a sip. "Still good."

_Gong_, said the clock with the incorrect tolerance.

His hand is still on her hand.

"Run away with me tonight."

"I can't."

_Gong. _

He kissed her forehead because she let him.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of a pellet pecking against her window pane. A blind canary flew into a tree. It did so almost every morning. Christine got up and walked to her window. She was surprised to see Erik was standing outside, leaning patiently against the tree. He had never left. He looked up at her and let the pebbles slide between his fingers. Her heart filled with tenderness and her eyes welled with tears.

She ran outside and into his arms and the canary flew about them.


End file.
